In Which Chariman Drek Hires A Lot of Jerks
by PerceptionIsSubjective
Summary: Exactly as the story title describes. A small 20 chapter fic that takes place after the assumed events of PSABR. Won't include /all/ of the PSABR cast. Who will end Chairman Drek's campaign of terror! Chapter 1: "The Q-Force MK II SUPER COOL CROSSOVER VERSION" is introduced. Team name by Copernicus Leslie Qwark.


"_Greetings, troglodytes and lesser species!"_

"_Who the hell's this guy?"_

"_He's so…"_

"_I think Spike can inch over the guy a bit." "Only slightly."_

"_Hey!" _

"_[This doesn't feel good…Dusty! Stay close!]"_

"_Wait a minute. That voice seems to be a bit familiar. Ratchet…?"_

"_Yeah...oh man, isn't this a blast from the past."_

**Three Weeks Earlier**

**Metropolis, Kerwan, Solana Galaxy**

"So, then, my pasty and malnourished friends." Qwark barked on, feeling quite proud of himself with the story he was retelling to the group circled together, "I, Captain Qwark, did what any able body citizen of metropolis could ever do in the situation of an undead robotic zombie apocalypse!"

"Qwark, once again, this story never hap—" The person—well, robot, talking, Clank, was then silenced by a rather rude boot to his head by the spandex-clad ox.

"Shush! Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. The part around where I grabbed the rotten head of Captain Starshield and began the process of GRINDING IT DOWN TO SMALL LITTLE CHUNKLETS OF DUST! He'll know where his privateer-ship…hood…ness…thing will get him into in this unfortunate future!" Qwark then shot up out of the couch, standing and holding a small tennis ball in his head, representing the previously deceased demise as reference from the group.

There was silence.

Then, there was the odor of tobacco fuming into the room.

"That was the most pants-on-head retarded shit I've ever heard." A voice ridden with disease and depression croaked out as he stepped out from the balcony and into the room. "Robot zombies. Hot nonsense, and shame on anyone who be—"

"THAT WAS THE WILDEST STORY, EVER!" A small red-haired boy yelped, throwing his small sack-doll into the air. "I can't believe you can hold EIGHT RYNOS in one hand! Each!"

Narrowing his eyes, Dante sighed, beginning to turn back to the balcony, in need for another cigarette. "Stupid kid."

"Okay, Okay, Dillion~." Qwark reassured, purposely (?) getting Dante's name incorrect. "If this story doesn't tickle your fancy, then maaaaybe I should read another from; 'Captain Copernicus Leslie Qwark's Really Real Tales That Are Definitely Real and Not Fabrications of What A Lombax and a Robot Did instead.'!"

… "Disclaimer, author?"

(Warning: The following stories contained in this book are indeed fictional and were actually dramatizations of what a Lombax and a Robot did. Instead.)

"Good boy. " Qwark snickered. The red haired boy, Spike, thought about it for a second, then shook his head in disagreement. "Nah. I think Ratchet's coming up the elevator right now." Spike stood up, helping the small sack…person up from the floor. The sack-person, who for the sake of this story will be referred to as 'Sackboy,' gave a positive smile, excited for Ratchet's return and hopefully another mission for the group to do.

You see, after the group of six had defeated Polygon Man, the mysterious entity that brought the 5 (omitting Qwark, who attempted to go as well, but ended up being digested by a Hydra instead.), along with another myriad of colorful individuals to their own worlds and other unfamiliar locations. After his defeat, some of the group decided to split apart, while others decided to band together.

In an event to test their own skills to contest another of the large group who had defeated Polygon Man, Spike and Dante decided to stay with Ratchet and Clank, eventually joining their recently established Q-Force to defend the Solana Galaxy from any outside anomalies and act as a pest control for any stray creatures. As for Sackboy, Well.

He grew an attachment to the raven-haired Demon Killer.

"Stop. Hugging. My leg." Dante groaned in an attempt to shake off the hug of the mentioned Sackboy. He could've unloaded a bullet in the fluffy being's head, but as with all victims, you can't really /harm/ a Sackboy. They're just so damn cute! Right? Sackboy looked up to him, trying to mimic his face in the same sneer Dante had-for good measure, of course.

"That's it." Dante muttered, picking up Sackboy by his small little head, dangling him from the balcony, high above the speeding cars and the bottomless pit below. "Time to turn you into flu—"

"Someone's not getting along!" A voice spoke from out of an elevator, and out from it came the Lombax and owner of the apartment they resided in, Ratchet. "You know the deal, pasty: No killing flat-mates." Dante frowned up, simply tossing Sackboy to Spike, Sackboy landing into Spike's hair. Despite his name, Spike's hair was rather soft.

"You could go with being a bit more sensitive, Dante." Spike retorted to Dante as Dante fitted on his red jacket.

"You could go on with being a bit less oblivious to liars and /girls/, chump." Dante spoke, giving a sly grin.

"SHUT UP!" Spike yelled.

"Make me." Dante said coolly. Shaking his fist, but then giving a sigh, Spike resigned from the opportunity, returning back to his focus on his hair and the Sackboy having much too fun.

"Anyway, girls, we got another job. We gotta deal with a really /large/ Swamp Worm issue in Florana." Ratchet said after the mood settled down, reaching for his armaments cabinet for a rather old weapon, his Plasma Coil. "Who's up?"

Raising a hand, Dante signaled his interest in the project, kicking up Rebellion to his hand, and storing Aquila and Kablooey for the side later. "Need to get out of the dumbass depot anyway. Let's get it over with."

Spike shook his head. "I'll just listen to more of Qwark's stories. That's alright, Qwark?"

Qwark was much too involved in the current game of 52-pickup he established with Clank to even care about the red-haired boy. "I swear there's a freaking Ace in here somewhere…."

Ratchet sighed, and the look on Clank's face wasn't a good signal either. "We'll be back in an hour. If not, we're probably struggling!"

* * *

**Yeah. First story in a /while/. Wanted to start fresh. Criticism, etc.**

**Review please.**


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